


Let's Get Baked

by Jascel



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Baking, Blow Jobs, Drug Dealing, M/M, Messy Boys, Non-Graphic Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jascel/pseuds/Jascel
Summary: Tweek, Kenny and Butters bake and sell edibles on the down-low to support themselves during their college years.Clyde, one of Kenny's regular customers, drags Craig halfway across town to pick up his order, and despite his initial protest doesn't entirely end up regretting the trip once he meets a hot, chaotic blonde who makes him feelthings.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Minor Kenny McCormick/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 27
Kudos: 116





	Let's Get Baked

**Author's Note:**

> The Kenny McCormick/Tweek Tweak tag is for a bit of making out that happens between the two - which Butters is definitely okay with just to make things clear. Kenny and Butters are in a happy relationship.

“Gross,” Tweek mutters, picking up the first thing in his arm’s reach – _a large wooden spoon_ – to swat at Kenny’s wandering hands. His shithead of a best friend was notorious for being a nosy little fucker – which in part made him an excellent dealer, but also meant he was particularly prone to flitting around their small kitchen while Tweek was up to his eyeballs in baking orders. Kenny would constantly ask him bizarre, ridiculous questions and stick his abnormally long fingers into whatever batter he happened to be mixing – laughing obnoxiously loud whenever Tweek would become visibly frustrated with his annoying antics. “You’re going to get salmonella, dude.”

“ _Ow!_ ” Kenny groans, rubbing at the spot on his hand where Tweek had just struck him. _“_ Salmo-what-now?”

Tweek stops in his tracks, the casually thrown-out question causing his brain to briefly short-circuit. He sets down the dull knife he had been using to grease a baking tin with softened butter and stares at Kenny with a baffled expression on his face.

 __ _Does… does Kenny really not know what salmonella is?_ Tweek’s brows furrowed with sudden suspicion at the thought. _Or was he just fucking with him as he was wont to do from time to time?_ He was sorely tempted to hit him again – with something more solid and _sharp_. 

“It means you’re gonna blast from both ends,” Butters helpfully interjects from where he is seated on the edge of the kitchen counter in a cheerful tone. Somehow, _god knows how_ , Butters managed to make everything that came out of his mouth sound pleasing and rather delightful – even when he was threatening you with malicious bodily harm.

Kenny’s face screws up with disgust at Butters’ graphic description. “Whatever,” he says as his attention instead shifts to the exercise book covered in gooey fingerprints and flour that’s laying out next to a large glass bowl filled with what he thinks is perhaps salted caramel brownie batter judging by the smell emanating from its contents. He’s eager to see what’s written inside the book, but that plan is foiled when Tweek pre-emptively notices what he is about to do and begins swatting at him with his bare hands this time.

“ _Hands off!_ Your fingers are sticky, asshole.”

Kenny snorts, “What that supposed to be anyway? You always have that book lying around when you’re working in the kitchen.”

“My weed math book,” Tweek absently replies, distracted by the spooning of the salted-caramel brownie batter into the now fully greased baking tin.

“Your ‘ _weed math book_ ’?” Kenny replies, making air-quote gestures around Tweek’s brief explanation.

“Yeah,” Tweek turns to face his friend, hands resting on his hips in his typical, exasperated-mother position. _Yes, he is aware of how completely absurd he looks, thank you very much_. “Do you think I just randomly throw in a couple handfuls of hash and hope for the best?”

“Well, yeah-” Kenny slowly nodes his head, which in turn causes Tweek to groan heavily in response and throw up his hands into the air. The confections that Tweek baked were made with varying degrees of potency. The more of an intense high a client wanted, the more Kenny would charge them. Sometimes they even took orders for college parties and the like, so Tweek was a pedantic asshole and paid careful mind to vigilantly document everything – where the money goes, where it’s coming from, who are their repeat customers, what their preferences are and so on.

“Ugh, _no!_ There’s a subtle science and exact kind of art to all of this, and I have to get it right, _so shoo!_ ” Tweek growls, waving Kenny away.

At the clear dismissal of his presence, Kenny shrugs away from Tweek’s workstation and moves over to where Butters is seated, surrounded by various piping bags of multi-coloured icing and quietly decorating a batch of chocolate muffins that Tweek had pulled out of the oven to cool twenty minutes prior. Kenny gently picks out one of the already iced muffins and smiles warmly at Butters’ handiwork.

This task had originally also been Tweek’s job, but even when he was comfortably high and semi-relaxed, his hands still shook a little and more often than not he ended up messing up some of the designs. It made him incredibly irritable and upset, so Butters decided to pity him and take over decorating duties, which suited Tweek just fine because he was actually better at it.

“These are adorable, honey,” Kenny announces, before asking “do we have any with dicks on them?”

“N-no,” Butters replies, shaking with poorly veiled laughter, “but I, _uh_ , I can make you one.” He puts down the muffins he had been frosting with neon-orange petals and fishes out a plan one from the cooling rack. Once he finishes executing Kenny’s outlandish order, he hands the monstrosity over and watches his boyfriend as he takes a generous bite.

“Mmm,” the low sound of pleasure that leaves his mouth is loud enough to gain Tweek’s attention once more. “These are fucking delicious, Twitch,” he says before licking his lips and offering the rest of the offensive baked treat to his best friend. Tweek scowls at the awful nickname but takes the muffin from Kenny’s hand all the same.

He shouldn’t – he _really shouldn’t_. He’s still riding the high from his earlier sampling of the first batch of macaroon cookies he had baked that night. And that was the whole problem with this illicit operation they ran - they all couldn’t help but devour a good portion of what they made too. This meant that Tweek was getting high practically every day – of course, this helped chill him the fuck out but wasn’t really conducive to him getting any of his university work done. Being high felt like he was being swaddled in a soft, fuzzy blanket, seemingly protected from his anxious, runaway thoughts and the horrors of the world that constantly plagued his psyche. It was a feeling Tweek never wanted to leave. 

“God, that’s good,” Tweek sighs, getting lost in the warmth and light and fluffiness of the muffin’s texture.

“You, _uh,_ you’ve got a little something there,” Kenny interrupts his musings, gesturing towards a spot on Tweek’s face. He swallows and clumsily wipes at his chin with the back of his hands, somehow managing to completely miss the bit of cream icing around his mouth.

“Is it gone?”

“Nah,” Kenny shakes his head, smirking as he makes his way over to where Tweek is leaning against the kitchen cabinets. “Let me help you,” he whispers in a low, sultry voice before capturing Tweek’s face into his hands and pulling him into a kiss.

“Wha- mm _, oh_ , yeah… okay,” Tweek mumbles into the kiss.

Unfortunately, they are rudely disturbed by the shrill **_brinnnng_** of a timer going off. Tweek quickly pushes away from Kenny, busying himself with opening the oven door and pulling out the tray of brownies.

Whilst Tweek is preoccupied once again, Kenny turns back to face Butters to see his boyfriend’s pale blue eyes lit with a hint of desire. Butters always became a little aroused when he witnessed his best friends fooling around with each other and the evidence of it is observable by the obvious bulge in Butters’ bright purple, sheer yoga pants.

“Couch,” Tweek snaps, point his hand towards the apartment’s cramped living room. It’s clear to him by the palpable sexual tension between the pair that things are about to get very heated, very soon. “ _Not_ in my kitchen.”

Kenny chuckles into the kiss, not bothering to break away from Butters. Instead, he offers Tweek a short salute – _Tweek flips him off in response_ – before hoisting his boyfriend up in one swift motion and carrying him over to the battered, brown leather couch.

Mumbling expletives under his breath, Tweek shakes his head and opens the top utensil drawer to pull out a clean, hook-less, crochet needle. He was going to use it to poke the brownie mixture he had just taken out of the oven, checking to see whether it had been properly baked through. The weird little ritual was something he had picked up from his mother, with the crochet needle being the very same one he had pilfered from her own utensil drawer.

When he happens to glances over to the couch again to see Kenny nuzzling Butters’ neck with his nose so that his boyfriend’s head is tilted back and tracing kisses down his jaw to the crook of his neck. One of Kenny’s hands is halfway up Butters’ shirt, other pressing his palm against the erection in pants.

“ _Jesus Christ_ , guys,” Tweek hisses. “Get a room!”

“We have one,” Kenny says, breaking for air. “And we- we all share it, so why bother?”

“So I don’t have to see you two bang in our living room?” Tweek replies incredulously, a look of disbelief on his face, “What kind of question is that?” When that doesn’t receive a response, he rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know why he even tried. Regrettably, Tweek is very familiar with his friends’ exhibitionist tendencies. He’s brought out of his thoughts by a sudden loud **_knock_** at the front door.

“ _Ugh_ – you gonna get that, Tweek?” Butters asks breathily between moans. Kenny was now on the wooden floor, settled between his legs and slowly pulling Butters’ dick from his pants. 

* * *

“I can’t believe you dragged me halfway across town to this disgusting, dingy place,” Craig grumbles as him and Clyde walked up the creepy, rickety apartment building stairs. They were riddled with holes and in some places completely covered in mould. Extremely dated Disgusting, floral-patterned wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the cheap, fluorescent lights kept flickering on and off. All in all, the whole atmosphere gave him the heebie-jeebies, like he’s entering the location of some cheap, D-grade horror flick and is going to be murdered in the next thirty minutes.

“Shut up,” Clyde replies, “You _know_ my guy sells the best edibles in town. _Also_ , don’t think I didn’t see you stealing a muffing from my stash last week.” He kept his stash in an airtight plastic contain shoved under his dorm bed, which was hidden further behind a couple of cardboard boxes and piles of both dirty and clean laundry.

Craig shrugs in response. “I just wanted to see what all of the fuss was about since, you know, you never shut the fuck up about them,” he snorts, “I’m genuinely surprised you haven’t been busted yet.”

“-And besides,” Clyde continues, purposefully ignoring Craig’s comments, “Kenny’s shit is quality, dude. Everything is always freshly baked and iced with these cute little patterns.”

“Gross,” Craig scoffs at the look of glee that lights up Clyde’s face at the prospect of getting his hands on the muffins in the next few moments. “Grow up, Donovan. We’re not in elementary school anymore.”

“Yeah, well-” Clyde pauses to catch his breath, the climb of the stairs was starting to get to him, “I’m- I’m sorry you turned into a bor-boring, grumpy old man when you graduated from high school and can’t seem to get excited about the little things anymore.”

“I’m not old!” Craig cries. Offended by the criticism, he uses his shoulder to shove Clyde into the dirty stairwell wall.

“Could've fooled me, bro,” Clyde retorts, massaging his left shoulder. “Don’t you go to bed at, like, eight?”

“Excuse me? _You’re_ the one that makes so much fucking noise every night! All of your filthy moaning and obnoxious dirty talk,” – _Clyde squawks_ – “while you screw whatever girl is dumb enough to sleep with your loser ass. It’s disgusting, really. Crashing early and getting up at three in the morning is the _only_ time it’s actually quiet enough in our dorm for me to be able to concentrate on my assignments.”

Clyde frowns but is smart enough not to reply because Craig isn’t exactly wrong.

When they finally reach Clyde’s dealer’s door, the smell of pot makes it pretty clear that not only is something illegal happening behind the door but also that they’ve definitely reached the right place.

Clyde knocks on the door and steps back, patiently waiting for Kenny to answer. By the look of surprise that flashes across Clyde’s face the person that opens that door isn’t his dealer. Instead of the Kenny guy, is a tall blonde standing in the doorway dark sweatpants and _shirtless_ and subtly vibrating in place. Craig gulps, awkwardly shifting in his jeans because _holy shit_ the guy is _hot_.

“Yes,” the blonde says, looking between Clyde and Craig with slightly glazed eyes. Judging by the redness around his eyes and the somewhat blissed-out expression on his face, Craig assumed he was probably high. That detail shouldn’t have turned him on, but it did.

“Wow,” he mutters under his breath. This was so awkward.

“Um, I’m Clyde and-”

Craig face-palms, wasn’t it kind of stupid to give an apparent drug dealer your real name?

“Hi Clyde,” Tweek interrupts, “I’m Tweek.”

Then again maybe this Tweek guy is also dumb.

Clyde coughs, attempting to clear his throat. “Yeah, is- uh, is Kenny around?” At the question, Craig’s eyes zero in on what’s happening behind Tweek inside the apartment. He spots two people who are… _busy_.

Tweek follows Craig’s line of sight to where he can see Kenny giving Butters a very enthusiastic blowjob. Craig looks away and focuses back on the blonde. He would rather not be subjected to any of that imagery, thank you very much.

“He’s- uh,” Tweek blushes, “a little busy right now.”

“Oh,” Clyde replies dejectedly, disappointment written across his face. Clearly, he hadn’t seen that the Kenny guy was currently _occupied_. Craig watches as Tweek’s facial expression softens, taking pity on his friend. 

“What, _fuck_ , what exactly are you here for?”

“Well, um, you see-” Clyde begins, mumbling, before Craig grunts out.

“Muffins.”

Tweek’s eyes widen. “A customer,” he says, nodding to himself.

“Yeah,” Craig replies.

“Gotcha, I’ll be right back.” Tweek whips around, disappearing back into his apartment. Craig can hear him moving things around, muttering to himself. The blonde returns with a lunchbox-sized white cardboard box in his hands. It’s stamped with a dark label that reads ‘ _Let’s Get Baked_ ’. The cheesiness and absurdity of the label doesn’t stop Craig from barking a laugh out loud. It’s kind of clever if not a bit too on the nose. Clyde takes the box from Tweek’s hands and opens it up to reveal six plain chocolate muffins.

Clyde’s face falls and Craig wonders if this guy got his order wrong or if Clyde had simply forgotten to actually mention everything he wanted. Craig rolls his eyes at the thought because it wouldn’t be the first time Clyde hadn’t properly communicated his wants.

“Aww,” Clyde whines, “don’t you have the ones with the little pictures on them?”

“Sure we do,” Tweek grins as he proceeds to take the box out of Clyde’s hands, holding a single finger up to indicate he would just be a moment. He brings back another labelled box. Clyde smiles widely when he opens the box to reveal half a dozen muffins, decorated with tiny, strawberry-pink flamingos. Kinda weird.

“See, Craig?” Clyde says, closely showing Craig the contents of the box. Craig is surprised by the level of decorative detail. The flamingos looked very life-like, which Craig found kind of un-real. No offence to this Tweek guy, but he doesn’t exactly seem like the type of person who possessed that level of patience.

“Did _you_ make these yourself?” Craig asks sceptically.

“Yeah,” Tweek answers before catching himself and shaking his head. “Actually, it’s more of a group effort.”

Craig snorts.

Clyde pulls out a yellow envelope from his sports jacket’s inner pocket and hands it over to Tweek, who promptly opens it up to check that all of the money is there. It must be because he doesn’t say anything, just pockets the money into the back of his sweatpants. It looks like he’s about to turn away and shut the door in their faces, so before he can stop himself, Craig unexpectedly blurts out “Got any space-themed ones?” For some reason, he doesn’t want to part from the guy’s strange company.

“ _Space muffins_ ,” Clyde guffaws, laughing into the crook of his right elbow.

Tweek halts his actions, looking at Craig and cocking his head as a shit-eating grin suddenly appears on his face. “Oh, that’s gonna cost you extra, buddy.”

Craig panics because he didn’t think he’d have to bring any money with him – this was Clyde’s deal. He glances at Clyde, who nods his head – he would cover it. Craig turns back to face Tweek and nervously ask, “How much?”

For all of his worldly, self-proclaimed smarts, Craig wasn’t actually all that clued up on how much edibles go for in this part of town or at all really. He doesn’t buy weed – he just mooches off his friends and random friendly strangers he meets at parties and gigs. He’s flustered and surprised when Tweek abruptly grabs the front of his sweater and crashes their lips together. This is hot and kind of desperate, which only further turns Craig on. He can vaguely hear Clyde murmur something in the background that sounds like “ _Oh shit!_ ”

“That much,” Tweek whispers into his ear when they finally break apart. He looks smug and very satisfied with himself. While Craig is still dazedly staring at Tweek, trying to figure out if _that_ really just happened, Clyde fishes out a ten-dollar note from his back pocket. Tweek shakes his head in the negative before eyeing Craig again and saying “He’s cute. It’s on the house, bro.” Before Craig or Clyde can form a coherent response, Tweek randomly shouts ‘goodbye’ and shuts the door in their faces.

When Craig eventually realises he hadn’t actually been given his muffin, he proceeds to band on the shut door and yells “Hey, man! What about the muffin? I earned that!”

Clyde starts cackling with laughter once again, nearly dropping the box of muffins.

“What?” Craig turns to face him, responding to his laughter, “I did!” A few moments later he can hear muffled giggling and shuffling behind the door before it opens ever so slightly to reveal a small cardboard box for the singular, decorated mugging. He’s kind of _disturbingly_ upset that Tweek hadn’t fully come out to hand it to him.

Eventually he murmurs his thanks, grabs the package and he and Clyde leave. When they are out of the apartment’s earshot Clyde turns to Craig and asks “So, still regretting coming with me tonight?”

Craig, who’s taken the muffin out – iced with a spaceship and several stars – and committed the design to memory, bites into it and thinks about Tweek and his body and the passionate kiss they’d shared. He would definitely be coming back with Clyde to see Tweek again.

He swallows, relishing in the taste.

“ _No_.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a long time coming and was heavily inspired in part by a comment left on my WIP ' **Sunflowers and Blue Moons** ' regarding all the crazy shit best friends Tweek, Kenny and Butters must get up to, and also in part by the time me and my best friend made chocolate brownie weed muffins for a music camp festival thingy we went to. 
> 
> It's been sitting in my drive for a whole year and a bit, and I think it's finally time I just load it up and get it out into the world... There are some parts I'm not entirely happy with, but the general vibe it gives off is pretty good, I think? 
> 
> Hopefully, this will inspire me to write again and more. Comments and kudos are highly appreciated, please let me know what you think!


End file.
